Flurries

Today is. . . unfortunate. That is, it's unfortunate that today even has to mean anything to me. Will I always look upon this day and wish that a simple date meant nothing, that perhaps I'd like to be able to wipe a day off of the calendar completely? If January could go from the 7th to the 9th, I'd be grateful. The snow is falling, along with my mood, and I can't help but wonder at the effect today is having. This day last year wasn't as hard and you'd think that a year later would be like nothing. I guess it reminds me that shock and pain become comfortable, close to you, so close that you forget they're there until they strip away and all that is left is a raw, pale and un-sunned portion of yourself that you forgot existed.

When I pulled into the library this morning, I watched a snowflake land on my windshield. "God made you, individual and unique, like a flake of snow He made just for me. I vow to treasure you as the gift that you are." I remember every word of my vows, especially the "for better or worse" portion. Why, when worse came, did he decide that didn't mean anything? I wonder if I'll ever be able to make that promise to someone else. That's not important, though, not today.

The snowflake melted in about 5 seconds. To God, our lives must seem that short. We're one flake of snow in a snowstorm that lasts for eternity but we're not inconspicuous in the big picture of His grand plan. He knows every flake down to its weight, the number of tips in its pattern, how it fell and where it landed. He knows. He knows AND cares. We can't get lost from His sight. We aren't forgotten. No matter how dark or cold or deep it gets in this life, that snow falling from heaven is still pure and white, washed clean from a sacrifice made several thousand years ago.

I'm not feeling washed today. Cold, yes, I feel cold and, admittedly, a little lost. I hate divorce.